


come feel my heart

by eunzos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Prom, pre-kerberos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eunzos/pseuds/eunzos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asking Shiro to prom may result in one of three scenarios: 1) Shiro says yes, they hit it off; 2) Shiro says yes, they don’t hit it off and things get awkward; 3) Shiro says no, and Keith ascends to another plane of existence to save himself from embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come feel my heart

**Author's Note:**

> based off anon's prompt: _pre-kerberos the garrison has a makeshift prom and keith struggles trying to ask shiro bc theyre just friends and theres a romantic awakening during the slow dance_

Here’s the situation:

Prom is in two weeks, and Keith’s gonna go ‘cause he’s a fucking masochist. (Read: He just wants to lowkey ogle at Shiro in a tux for three-and-a-half hours.)

It didn’t start out this way, mind you. Keith actually had no intentions of going in the first place — dancing is gross and seeing teenagers sucking on each other’s faces is even grosser — but then yesterday happened.

He and Shiro were finishing up their training session. Feet to hands, head to chests, it was a friendly grapple that ended with Shiro pinning him to the ground, forearm against shoulders, knee between thighs. Keith got the breath knocked out of him, and he’s not so sure if it’s because of how hard his back hit the ground, or if it’s because of how dangerously close Shiro was to him. Either way, Shiro got off him, and while helping Keith up, he asked, “You going to prom?”

Of course Keith scoffed, “No.”

To which Shiro responded: “You should. It’ll be fun. I’ll be there.”

And that pretty much sold him.

‘Cause here’s the thing:

Keith might have a crush on Shiro. _Might_. That’s not to say he does, but it’s not to say he doesn’t either. It might be because he looks up to Shiro, it might also be because he’s a teenager with stupid hormones and stupider emotions — and yeah, no. He definitely has a crush on Shiro. Instinct tells him that. And you know what else instinct tells him? _Ask him to prom_.

So here’s the current situation:

They’re just friends, and Keith _really_ doesn’t want to lose Shiro because he’s _kinda sorta_ his only friend. Or at least, the only friend that actively thinks of him as a friend. So asking him to prom may result in one of three scenarios: 1) Shiro says yes, they hit it off; 2) Shiro says yes, they don’t hit it off and things get awkward; 3) Shiro says no, and Keith ascends to another plane of existence to save himself from embarrassment.

Fortunately, two of those three scenarios are fine with Keith, because if they hit it off then _sweet_ ; and if Shiro says no, Keith can just ascend into space. So logically, the chance of him being okay with the outcome is 66%. Which is more than 50%. Which means, statistically, it should be fine.

Except it’s not.

Because he really really _really_ does not want to destroy what they have. Because they are but a speck in the universe, and this little crush will mean nothing five years from now. Because he’s just. _Scared_. Honestly.

When it comes to understanding himself, Keith scores top marks: he knows what he wants, he knows he’ll do whatever he can to get it. But when it comes to Shiro, when it comes to _relationships_ , he’s not all too sure.

But y’know what?

He’s only got one life, and if he fucks up this one then _oh, well_.

 _Worth it_.

And this is what happens:

Prom is in a week, and Keith’s gonna ask Shiro to be his date ‘cause he’s still a fucking masochist. (Read: He just wants to know what it feels like to be held.)

It comes randomly. One would think that, after being so worked up over the possibility of destroying what relationship they have, Keith would carefully plan out how to ask Shiro to prom. But he doesn’t. Because planning’s not his forte. So halfway through one training session, when Keith’s got Shiro in an armlock, he asks him: “Hey. Are you still going to the prom thing?”

And Shiro says, “Yeah.”

Then Keith just lets it spill: “I was thinking. That. You should. Uh. Go with me. You should go with me.”

Shiro’s eyes go wide for a moment, then they go soft, and Keith thinks _shit_.

“I’m sorry, but someone has already asked me.”

Keith’s grip loosens. Shiro takes that opportunity to break out of the armlock and reverse their positions. Forearm against shoulders, knee between thighs — it’s all too familiar.

“You’ll still go?” Shiro asks, voice dipping low.

And _god_ , Keith just wants to quell his pounding heart and burning cheeks with a sharp _hell no_ ; but he can’t. _He can’t_. Not when Shiro’s looking at him like that. So he diverts his eyes, swallows his pride, says, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be there. Whatever.” He pushes Shiro off, and the training session ends there.

They don’t talk much for the rest of the week, but when prom comes along, Keith shows up in a tux. He immediately goes to the food table and resolves to stay there for the entire night — but then he accidentally catches Shiro’s eye from across the room. Well, shit. He says a silent prayer, though he doesn’t believe in any god, and wipes his expression free of salt when Shiro starts making his way over, date in arm.

She’s okay.

“— And this is Keith. First class fighter pilot, top of his grade. Keith, this is Amira.”

“You’re quite admirable,” Amira says, words rolling off her tongue in thick, foreign syllables. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She holds out her hand, palm faced down.

Keith knows he’s supposed to kiss it like a gentleman, but he’s a little bitter, so he shakes it instead. “You too.”

“How’s the food?” Shiro asks, nodding at the plate in Keith’s hand.

“Decent.”

“I heard the cheesecake bites were good.” Amira tugs at Shiro’s sleeve. “Let’s go try them.”

They bid Keith a temporary farewell and leave him feeling a little warmer than usual. He may swear up, down, and around that such warmth was caused by the jalapeño poppers — but he knows they’re not the main perpetrator (he can eat an entire bowl of kimchi and be perfectly fine). Yeah, _no_. The main perpetrator is definitely Shiro in his form-fitting tux. Keith doesn’t even want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about how the white button-up stretches across his broad chest, how the black blazer hugs his large arms. And he doesn’t want to think about Amira either, because she is. Well. A little above average. Okay, no. She’s gorgeous, and Keith’s pretty certain she’s an alien.

Distantly, Shiro laughs at something she says, and Keith may be a masochist, but he’s a masochist with standards. So he takes the entire tray of jalapeño poppers and makes his way out to the balcony. Hypothetically speaking, he _could_ leave prom, but he could _also_ stay. And maybe Shiro would come around. And they would talk. Or something. Dance, maybe. Even though Keith doesn’t know how to dance, least _like_ to.

He pops another jalapeño in his mouth and chews it thoughtfully. About five and a half poppers later, he decides to return the tray to the food table. He snags a cup of water, then searches the crowd for Shiro and Amira. They’re slow-dancing to Celine Dion. Keith goes back out on the balcony.

Nine o’clock turns into nine-thirty, and nine-thirty eventually turns into ten. Keith considers leaving for the twenty-seventh time this evening, but before he can actually make the conscious decision _to_ leave, Shiro shows up.

“This is a nice view,” he says, leaning against the rail.

Keith looks at him, says “Yeah,” then takes another moment to fully register that Shiro’s talking about the landscape beyond the balcony and not himself. “I mean, you’re used to it. Your room facing this way and all.”

“It’s a bit different. I always look up when I’m in my room.” Shiro tilts his chin up, and Keith wills himself not to stare too hard at Shiro’s thick neck. “Soon I will be up there, among the stars. But sometimes I fear I’ll like it a little too much and wouldn’t want to return.” The soft, lopsided smile hints at his joking demeanor, but Keith’s not all too sure that Shiro _is_ joking.

So he changes the topic.

“Where’s she from?”

“Amira?”

“Yeah.”

“Hungary.”

Keith quirks an eyebrow. “Why is she here?”

“Garrison’s one of the best, isn’t it?” Shiro turns around and leans back against the rail, arms folding over his chest. “She was fascinated by the idea of prom. Thought it was fairly common for friends to ask friends.”

He doesn’t look at Keith when he says that. Keith lowers his head.

“I don’t mind,” Shiro continues, “She’s enjoying her last month here.”

“Did she leave already? Prom.”

“She’s chatting with her friends. I told her I’ll be with you, so it’s fine. She’ll come around when she needs me.” He pauses for a moment, then asks, “Have you been out here this entire time?”

“No.” Which isn’t exactly a lie, since he _did_ go back inside to return the tray of jalapeño poppers.

Shiro gives him a _look_. “Plenty of your classmates are here.”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to give Shiro a _look_. “And?”

“You should talk to them.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Keith.”

If he were to make a list of things he doesn’t like about Shiro, the list would be very short indeed. In fact, the only point on that list would be _1) When Shiro treats him like a child_. He doesn’t mind the occasional lecture — hell, one of the main reason he _likes_ Shiro is because Shiro doesn’t lecture him as much — but when it’s _this_. He just.

“I’m leaving.”

He moves, Shiro grabs his arm, and the warmth spreads from Shiro’s hand to Keith’s chest. It clenches unbearably tight. He closes his eyes, squeezes out the deep breath residing heavily alongside his heart.

“Sorry,” Shiro says. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

He lets go, and Keith turns cold.

“It’s fine.”

And of _course_ Amira chooses this moment to make her grand entrance.

“Shiro! Come quick. They’re playing our song!” She grabs Shiro’s hand, then turns to Keith. “Hope you don’t mind me stealing him for a bit more.”

Keith can’t bring himself to glare at her, because Shiro catches his eye in time to ask, “You’ll stay?” And Keith, _stupid Keith_ , says, “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

Shiro doesn’t even have a chance to respond; Amira pulls him out, bubbling with thrill over the DJ playing her favorite. Keith watches them go, and when they’re back inside and fully out of sight, he kicks himself for agreeing to stay. He really really _really_ should have said no. It’s not Amira (this he swears on), but it _might_ have something to do with Amira.

Prom is — evidently — not his scene. He doesn’t get along well enough with others to hang out with them, he doesn’t actually _want_ to hang out with them. And honestly, the only reason he’s here is because he wants to see Shiro in a tux. Now that he’s done seeing all of that, he has no reason to stick around. He’s just wasting his time. He could be training. Could be polishing his daggers and boots or whatever. But no, he’s staying right here on the balcony because he highkey does not want Shiro to be disappointed in him, and it’s completely stupid because _why should he care what Shiro thinks_ but Shiro is his _friend_ , and Keith said he’ll be here, and friend or not: he doesn’t go back on his word. Ever.

So he stays.

Ten-thirty turns into eleven, and eleven turns into eleven-thirty. Keith ends up eating all the jalapeño poppers because surprise: no one else likes them. He sits about, gets up and wanders around, grabs a few more plates of snacks, watches Shiro dance with Amira from across the room. At one point, he has a conscious revelation that Amira is very, _very_ lucky; and he turns away to stuff his face with chip and dip to avoid feeling otherwise very, very _unlucky_.

Eventually he ends up where he first started, on the balcony, peering out at the stars stretching beyond the horizon, to many oceans and back. In a few years, he’ll be up there too. He’ll have a team — people he will _have_ to get along with — and he’ll be discovering worlds. Tonight’s not going to matter when he’s a million light years away. He’s going to live an infinite amount of lives, so tonight — this little _crush_ — won’t matter.

But then this happens:

Shiro comes back and scares the shit out of him.

“I thought you left," Shiro says.

The bell tower chimes for midnight.

“I said I’d be here.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Keith turns to him fully now. “Where’s your date?”

“She got tired and went back.”

“Yet you’re still here.”

Shiro’s brow furrows. “Your attitude is really unbecoming of you.”

There’s a part of him that falters at that, but he holds his ground: “I’ve been told.”

“Look, I’m not here to argue.”

“Then why _are_ you here?”

“Because you’re here.”

“What if I wasn’t?”

“Then I would’ve left.” Shiro holds his gaze for some time before letting out a breath and extending a hand. “Dance with me.”

Keith looks at the hand for the briefest moment. He knows what he wants, he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to get it. But when it comes to Shiro, when it comes to _this_ , he can’t be sure. Instinct tells him to go for it, to take the hand and take the leap of faith — and y’know what? He takes it, because there’s a 100% chance of him being fine with the outcome: 3) Shiro says no, and Keith ascends to another plane of existence (i.e. space) to save himself from embarrassment; and an unaccounted 4) Shiro says no, but then asks him to dance and they hit it off. So he’s 100% in.

Even though he’s still a little bitter.

Even though he thinks dancing is gross.

He’s only got one life, and if he fucks up this one then well,  _what gives_.

And now here’s the current situation:

His arms are loose around Shiro’s neck, Shiro’s hands are tight on his waist, and they’re slow-dancing on the balcony to Celine Dion. He finds himself staring at Shiro’s chest (half because it’s Shiro’s chest, and half because he can’t bring himself to meet Shiro’s steady gaze). They don’t talk much: Shiro makes a comment here and there, but Keith cuts any attempt to converse short with thoughtless _Yeah-_ s and _I Guess-_ es.

Eventually, Shiro asks, “Are you upset with me?”

And Keith looks up, says, “No.”

“You’re not saying much.”

“I don’t have much to say.” _That_ happens to be a lie. Keith has a million things to say, least convey in a more favorable form, but does he want to say them? Not really. Does he know _how_ to say them? Definitely not. “But um. Thanks. I guess. For staying. You didn’t have to.”

The lines around Shiro’s eyes soften considerably. “No need to thank me. I wanted to stay.”

Keith feels heat creeping into his cheeks, feels it seeping into his chest like a cathartic virus. He looks off, lets out a deep, slow breath to calm himself from making any rash decisions. In the background, Celine finishes her song with an elongated note. There’s silence, save the distant chatter from a few students on the other side of the balcony. Then another song starts up. _See You Again_ , Keith recognizes. It strikes a chord in him, makes him realize that, even if he were to live an infinite amount of lives, the chances of him meeting Shiro again are slim to none. That’s not stats. That’s logic.

“Where will they send you?” He looks at Shiro now, _really_ looks at him.

“Pluto.”

“That far?”

“It’s not too far.” Shiro peers up at the night sky, and Keith follows suit. “Compared to the rest of the universe, it’s relatively close.” A pause. “Where do you want to go?”

The words _wherever you go_ are heavy on Keith’s tongue, but he bites it back. “I’ll go wherever they send me.”

“But where do you _hope_ to go?”

It’s a good question. Keith has thought about it a couple of times; but admittedly, whenever he thinks about it, he imagines being alone. Exploring planets on his own terms, feeling at ease with the deafening silence that is the universe’s void. Out there, way out there, where the stars can’t judge him.

“— As far as I can.”

“Will you come back?”

Keith lowers his head and catches Shiro’s eye.

“If you ask me to.”

And _that_ happens to be the truth.

They still. Shiro lets go of his waist, and Keith lets his arms fall from around Shiro’s neck.

“We should go,” Shiro says, turning back inside.

That’s when something within Keith  _combusts_.

His heart leaps to his throat, his lungs burn with evacuated air. He reaches out and grabs Shiro’s sleeve, and when Shiro looks back, Keith hears himself say “I like you.” And the world goes quiet. They now exist in a soundless vacuum, where the only movement comes from inside Keith’s pounding chest. And he knows he knows _he knows_ he shouldn’t have said what he just did. He _knows_ that, from this point on, their relationship will change. For better, for worse, that he does not know. But he _does_ know what he hopes will come out of it. Except. Hope rarely transcends into reality.

Shiro will graduate this year. In just a month, Keith won’t see him. Won’t _know_ him. And it’s not going to matter, because Keith will eventually graduate himself. Then he’ll be up there, as far as he can go; and he won’t come back, because Shiro won’t be there to ask him to come back.

It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be fine.

The fabric slips from his hand, and he prepares himself for that hard  _no_. Shuts his eyes, wills away buzzing thoughts.

— But that _no_ never does come. 

Instead, he feels warm fingers threading themselves with his own, and he feels himself drawn in, as if gravity has shifted its weight to bring them closer together.

“Let’s go,” Shiro says, this time softer.

Keith opens his eyes and sees Shiro smiling down at him, sees their interlocked hands, and _feels_  the _yes_.

So he goes. 

He doesn’t know where they’re going. Doesn't know how far or how long. But he doesn't care: he goes because Shiro goes.

**Author's Note:**

> yes amira is totally based off of allura & if ur thinking why they have fighting classes at garrison??? ....good question lol
> 
> send me prompts >>> neruas @ tumblr
> 
> _title inspired by la la - the cab_


End file.
